


Black Magic

by AmbiguouslyAmoral



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: AbbyofTheEveryman, Ashworth is an Evil Witch (Out of Love), Corvo Needs Sleep, Emily Kaldwin Being a Badass, F/F, F/M, Kirin Jindosh Trying to be a Good Person, Lots and Lots of Time Jumps, M/M, Nobody Expects the Inquistion, fairytales - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-08-27 12:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16702297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbiguouslyAmoral/pseuds/AmbiguouslyAmoral
Summary: The High Overseer turned his back to the crowd to face Emily. “Empress of the people, do you not wish to see them thrive in the light rather than diminish in the darkness?”She did not hesitate. “Of course, High Overseer Frye. The Abby serves an important role in improving the lives of my people.”“Then, with the support of the crown, I declare the reinstatement of the Inquisition.”Shit, Corvo thought.





	1. Part I: Witch Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the nebulous realm after Dishonored 2, and I had began writing it before Death of the Outsider, so it ignores that plot entirely. I have the entire story mapped out, just not fully written yet, so this isn't a captain-less ship you are on.  
> It is separated into parts rather than chapters, because I can't plan ahead enough to break it into chapters. Part I is more of an introduction to the main plot, some important characters will not show up until Part II (which will be considerably longer than Part I).  
> Okay, I've rambled enough and most of you probably will not read this anyways, so Enjoy!

_By the roots of my hair some god got hold of_  
_me._  
_I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet._  
_The nights snapped out of sight like a lizard’s_  
_eyelid;_  
_A world of bald white days in a shadeless_  
_socket._  
_A vulturous boredom pinned me in this tree,_  
_If he were me, he would do what I did._

  
Sylvia Plath, “The Hanging Man”

 

Part I: Witch Hunt

  
The Outsider perched on Corvo Attano’s desk. It was an old desk, small and hidden from initial view if someone was to walk in by a much taller and wider dresser. Corvo had intentionally placed it there because it afforded the best view through the left most window--if it also allowed him to hide from the constant barrage of people needing his help, it was an unexpected bonus.

Normally, Corvo would be sat there trying to catch up on news from the neighboring countries, predicting trouble areas, and tracing significant patterns (in crime and magic). This is what he did when he was off duty. Currently, however, the desk was occupied by a whale god reading an old book.

After a while, Corvo was curious enough (and bored) to lean forward from where he stood against the wall and read the title Grimm’s Fairytales in gold lettering across the cover. He recognized not only the name, but the cracked, brown jacket cover.

“Isn’t that Emily’s?” It came out as a question even though Corvo already knew the answer. The Outsider knew this and therefore decided that an answer was not worth saying.

“I watched a man once who could command crows to pluck the eyes out of whomever he wished.”

He must be reading Cinderella, Corvo mused. “Don’t you mean a man that you gave those powers to.” Again, not a question. The Outsider looked up from the pages and sent Corvo a wicked smirk.

“No, sadly I did not. At that time, I did not know I could bestow gifts to mortals.” While saying this, the book casually disappeared in black, smoke from his hand as he pushed himself off the desk and onto his two feet. Corvo was too distracted by The Outsider’s words to linger on the magic.

“You weren’t always as—“ what was he? He wanted to say ‘powerful’ but Corvo had never seen The Outsider do anything all that grand. Pulling him into The Void became routine after the fifth or sixth shrine. “—influential as you are now?”

If The Outsider noticed Corvo’s word choice, he did not voice it. “You know how I was made Corvo,” he resumed his normal stance: hands clasped behind his back, “It was neither my choice nor my want. The cult that killed me did not think to send me into the afterlife with an instruction manual.”

“How long did you wing it for then?”

The Outsider continued to languidly pace around the familiar room. “I do not ‘wing’ anything.” Corvo could hear the air quotations around the word. He often did that, threw in common expressions in the hopes of hearing the immortal god repeat them. It was amusing for some reason that he did not understand. “I spent most of the first thousand years, give or take a few hundred, alone in The Void. I did not bother to care about the world.”

“What changed?” He asked.

“People began to call out my name and I listened.”

  
\--

  
“The Abby has a declaration to make!” High Overseer Frye shouted above the roar of arguing diplomats.

Corvo tensed from his position on Emily’s right.

Three weeks had passed since the strange conversation that Corvo had with The Outsider, though, every conversation they have would be considered strange to most normal people. He hadn’t seen the god since, but Corvo was also desperately busy preparing the disaster that was happening before them.

This whole idea was something he had been against from the beginning.

Two weeks after Emily was restored to flesh and bone she made two official decrees as Empress: she would always have an open ear to the people’s grievances and woes, and in order to accomplish this there would be a Meeting of Officials held annually in Dunwall Tower.

This meeting would involve every representative from all the cities in the Isles to be present in front of the Empress to discuss improvements and problems within their respective areas. Emily would no longer be content with sitting in her tower and receiving news from third or fourth member parties, but wanted to hear the truth directly from the source.  
There would not be room in the Isles for another usurper. Corvo couldn’t have felt prouder when she declared these changes one morning as she stared out across Dunwall.

The logistics of this decree, however, almost pushed Corvo to insanity.

Not only arranging for every Duke, aristocrat and their aids to be in one place at one time, and not only rebuilding an entire section of Dunwall Tower to hold that many officials, but protecting the Empress at an annual event which included hundreds of angry diplomats in one room was nightmarish.

The room they sat in, now referred to as The Assembly Hall had a total of 27 guards placed in obvious and not-so-obvious locations. Corvo, though holding no actual political power, demanded to be next to Emily who sat at the end of the Hall. From her position against the farthest wall, wood benches fanned around her in three tears—every seat was filled.

The Abby of the Everyman was automatically included in this assembly because of their long standing connection to the crown. They did hold significant power over social issues as their influence had waned over the years.

Apparently, Corvo thought, that was about to change.

High Overseer Frye was a man on the shorter side. He was pretty young for the position, no doubt there weren’t that many candidates to choose from, but his voice was commanding and his eyes reminded Corvo of hard steel.  
“Thank you, lords and ladies. You no doubt have many important matters to discuss, so I will be brief.”

He paused and made sure that every eye was on him.

“The Abby of the Everyman has been through extremely troubling times throughout the past decade, as you probably know. And there is no excuse for this. We were weak and we allowed corruption to seep into our halls, our brothers, our sisters, and most importantly your people.” He dramatically motioned across the vast hall.

“Under the reign of Delilah our ranks, filled with the best and brightest of our flock, were slaughter at the very gates you walked through today!” Those of weaker constitutions, gasped.

If the situation had not been so tense Corvo would have rolled his eyes.

“But I do not worry for the Abby.” His tone became gentler as he began moving down from his seat and onto the center of the floor. “This is not about us. We will always survive, because there will always be the light guiding our way towards prosperity.

“What I worry about, is the people--Our people, your people. Who will guide them away from temptation if not the Abby? Who will be able to inform them about the terrors of the Void if not the Abby? Who can preach about the evils of The Outsider if not the Abby?!” He threw his arms up in the air and everyone watched in hushed silence waiting for the crescendo of Frye’s speech.

The High Overseer turned his back to the crowd to face Emily. “Empress of the people, do you not wish to see them thrive in the light rather than diminish in the darkness?”

She did not hesitate. “Of course, High Overseer Frye. The Abby serves an important role in improving the lives of my people.”

“Then, with the support of the crown, I declare the reinstatement of the Inquisition.”

Shit, Corvo thought.

  
\--

  
“What in the Void?!” Emily cursed as soon as the doors shut behind her father. She growled and with a surprising amount of strength, kicked a chair clean across the room. Corvo, as with most things involving Emily, felt both pride and fear well up in his chest simultaneously.

“A fucking witch hunt?! How in Outsider’s name will terror and fear help my people prosper and see the light?!” Her voice became a mocking interpretation of Frye towards the end of the sentence. It was scarily accurate.

Corvo stood loosely at attention and didn’t say a word.

Emily glanced over at him and sighed, running her hands through her hair. “I know, I know that was an overreaction. I’m—I’m calmer now.” She closed her eyes and Corvo could practically hear her count backwards from ten. She breathed out loudly through her nose and went to retrieve the chair.

“Can they even do that?” The chair was placed back on its four legs if albeit more wobbly than before.

Corvo crossed the room and sat down on the daybed. “It’s an old law back when the ruling families were less concerned about who or what people worshiped. The Abby was given its own laws that it could enforce with their own men without the aid or approval of the government.” It was long before Corvo’s time, but he vaguely remembered his father or mother talking about their grandparents living through something similar.

“So, I can’t do anything?” She dropped next to her father.

Corvo hesitated. “I would give them your support and any men you can spare.”

Emily turned to him with wide eyes.

“If we have our own men in the Abby then we can control the situation before it becomes too radical. The Abby will also have no reason to suspect you of heresy.”  
Emily glanced down at Corvo’s left hand and thought on her rather loose connection to the Outsider.

“Why don’t I also lend them page boys and servant girls as well, no doubt they will need numbers on their side for this inquisition. I believe most are part of your spy network, no?” She smirked.

That’s her mother’s deviousness, Corvo thought proudly.

  
\--

  
It took two days for Frye’s declaration in the Assembly Hall to be reported in the papers. Like with most things involving the Abby, people pretty much ignored it and continued on with their lives. There were a few whispers of fear by those with shrines tucked into forgotten corners of their houses, but they didn’t do anything besides talk about it.  
It took two months for the Abby to pool the resources of their own ranks, the aristocrats, and the Empress to actually begin the Inquisition.

Its beginning was marked by Overseers patrolling the roads normally reserved for the Watch, the expansion of Overseer outposts to include entire blocks of buildings, the roaming packs of Wolfhounds, and daily repetitions of strictures over every speaker in Dunwall.

Though the Empress was able to sneak out at night and walk the streets trying to read the public’s reaction, Corvo was stuck in his office.

He now received constant reports from both the servants and the guards sent to bolster the Abby’s ranks. He had a metaphorical revolving door to his Royal Spymaster’s Office where every hour of every day was filled with a boy, girl, man, or woman reporting what they had heard, seen, or read. He had list of Overseers who could potentially become dangerous. A second set of paperwork was dedicated to the incongruities between what they were preaching and what they were actually saying within the safety of their walls.  
He started sleeping on the couch in his office. He hadn’t seen his bedroom in a week and hadn’t had a chance to use his powers for longer.

It took four months and three days after the declaration for the first public witch burning.

Corvo had known it was coming, but he did not know who would be the first victim.

The man’s name was Harold Whister.

He was sixty years old and had lived in Dunwall almost his entire life. During Delilah’s reign he had provided safe shelter for anyone who needed it within his own, small one bedroom apartment. He was widowed and had two children both of whom had moved to Serkonos years ago. During his years as a young man, he gained coin through fighting in illegal boxing matches. It was because of this that he always carried around a single bone charm that supposedly tempered the body’s aches and pains. It was the reason he was still able to work at the docks even so late into his life.

It was also the reason that during one of his shifts as he was tying a skiff to a port a wolfhound bolted up to him and began viciously barking. It called over three Overseers who only took two minutes to find the bone charm sown in his left jacket pocket.

The pyre was built in the middle of the town underneath the carriage rails and right in front of the gate leading to the Empress’s tower.

He was burned that same day. The entire town watched.

Corvo was perched in one of the facing buildings—he turned away as soon as Harold Whister’s screams changed into high pitched wails.

A cold hand settled onto his hunched shoulder. “In another timeline, Harold died from the rat plague. In another, he died surrounded by his children and grandchildren under Delilah’s long reign. In another, he slipped into the water at work and never woke carried into death by the sea.”

It took Corvo several minutes to swallow his emotion. “Is this supposed to comfort me?”

The Outsider appeared in front of him. His feet touching solid earth and an almost neutral expression on his face save for the flash of sympathy in his pitch, black eyes. “Dear Corvo, they always die. That’s how the story ends.”

“That doesn’t mean I should stop trying to save as many as I can before the final page.” Corvo’s said; his voice hard and his eyes bright.

The Outsider smiled wide.“And that is why you are so interesting, Corvo.”

  
\--

  
One month after Harold Whister was burned at the stake Her Royal Spymaster asked for the Empress’s permission to leave. Her gut reaction was to say no and force him to remain at her side—she wanted the comfort of having a known ally close by.

Ever since the burning, Dunwall had shifted into a city she almost could not recognize.

The normal life dwindled down until the streets that had been filled with people, venders, and noise only a month ago were proverbially ghost towns.  
Though she had not been awake during Delilah’s reign, she had heard her father’s tales and she imagined it wasn’t that different than this.The staff around the castle became meek, fearful. Every glimpse of the Abby caused people to flinch and turn their gaze. And since the crown had to officially support the Abby, they also become fearful of her—scurrying out of her way like rats when she walked the halls.

She felt like she was carrying the rat plague and being forced to comply with the Inquisition made her feel as dirty as one too.The only person who still treated her the same was Corvo, and she couldn’t bear to see him go.

“Leave?! At a time like this?” She tried to keep her voice level, but from reading Corvo’s face it was clearly not working. “Have you seen Dunwall? People are terrified , cowering in their homes while the Abby gleefully marches the streets and I’m forced to play along like a good little puppet, and you want to leave?!”

Corvo was frustratingly calm. “It’s important.”

Emily growled in response. “Yeah, sure, but more important than the literal shit-storm happening here?”

“The Outsider is missing.”

  
\--

  
Her father was never one to dally, so once he had told her of his plan (which she doubted was little more than just ‘find The Outsider’) he left that same night.

In the morning, Emily Kaldwin was awoken by her personal maid timidly informing her that Vice Overseer Halmoth was demanding an audience.

“When does he wish to see me?” Emily groggily asked still in her messy hair, drool stained morning glory.

The maid hesitated before answering, “He’s in the Receiving Room, Your Majesty.”

She barely stopped herself from cursing the Abby in front of her servants face, and quickly ushered her away to get ready.

As Emily dressed she thought of all the reasons Halmoth would be hear this early and unannounced, and none of them were good. There was a part of her that had started to imagine when the Inquisition would turn towards the crown. From the beginning, she knew it was an option and frankly, the smartest move if they wanted to take absolute power over the Isles. Half of her believed that the entire reason for the Inquisition was to gain enough to go after her directly. She was just glad that Corvo had already left.

Empress Emily Kaldwin met Vice Overseer Halmoth an hour later.

She was dressed more regally than normal and carried the air of royalty around her like armor. She found him standing where the maid said he was surrounded by four brothers and double the amount of woflhounds.

Ah, so it’s a hunt, she thinks.

Halmoth bowed, “Empress Kaldwin, we have come to believe that people in your palace are consorting with magic and we are here to root out this corruption. Will you cooperate?”

“Of course, Vice Overseer,” Emily doesn’t bow back. “I would like to help, since it is my palace after all.”

A nod from Halmoth and the brothers disperse, each heading in a different direction and causing staff to scurry quickly out of their way. Halmoth then turns his attention to Emily and gestures her to lead as a semblance of courtesy.

Halmoth waits until they reach the second floor before talking, “No offense meant, Your Majesty, but would not the Royal Protector and Spy Master make a better aid than your, no doubt busy, self?”

Way to show your cards, Halmoth, Emily thinks. So you know about my father, I wonder how much?

Emily waves a staff member out of the way and proceeds into their room. “I am sorry to disappoint, but Mr. Attano had urgent business in Morley, which forced him to leave late last night.”

Emily pretends to check the room for heretical artifacts while Halmoth stands in the doorway. “Shall we continue to the next room?” Emily asks with a smile before brushing past the Vice Overseer and continuing down the hallway.

It is well into the afternoon when one of the brothers rushes into the kitchens where Emily and Halmoth have continued their search in silence, announcing that a shrine was found.

Shit, Emily thinks.

  
\--

  
[Before]

Breanna Ashworth was a known heretic. Corruption born from the Void seeped out of the Royal Conservatory long before Delilah’s short-lived reign. Due to the protection of the Duke of Serkonos and, by association, his money and grand guard—the Abby could do little in the way of taking her into custody. This did not stop the Abby from having an Overseer in spitting distance of the place at all times nor did it stop Vice Overseer Halmoth from checking in once a week.

It was two nights after the Masked Felon entered into the Royal Conservatory did Halmoth visit the unassuming apartment in Cyria Gardens. He found the Overseer rambling about a man in a mask, waking up in a bed he did not fall asleep in, and a missing audiograph. It didn’t take long for Halmoth to piece together what had transpired.Once they had convinced the grand guard to enter the Conservatory it had been easy to for the Abby to slip in and take over. The grand guard wanting to avoid the wrath of the Duke readily allowed every brother and sister to begin cleansing the place only so that it would be the Overseers and not the guard that would report to the Duke what had happened.

They found Breanna Ashworth kneeling in the same place Corvo had left her, though Halmoth was not privy to that information.

She was mumbling to herself, eyes red with tears that stopped falling a day ago, and hands covered in the bright blue of whale oil. The language of the Void that had once spelled out magic and power across the wooden floors was smeared in Ashworth’s blinding rage. Halmoth approached her cautiously, his training still screaming at him to mind the once powerful witch, but she didn’t seem notice him.

“If I just add some cat’s eyes maybe I could temporarily reverse…”

Her mumblings were madness and Halmoth ignored them. “Breanna Ashworth you stand accused of one of the highest forms of heresy. How do you plea?”

Her answer was a deranged type of laugh.

It took months for her trial in front of Overseers to be arranged. They had been too busy with recruiting and rebuilding the order, which had been severely decimated by Delilah in order to bother with something as tedious as a trial for an obvious heretic.

She was overwhelming convicted of heresy and violating almost all strictures.

However, with Ashworth’s broken cackle still ringing in Halmoth’s ears, he pleaded for her to be sentenced to a life time behind bars and penance rather than death by burning. The Abby still too nervous about losing all public support and still unled by a High Overseer, agreed.

Corvo had learned long ago that sparing someone’s life does not equal mercy.

There are fates worse than death which he had committed hundreds of people to—not just as the Masked Felon, but as the Royal Protector and Spy Master. Once he had taken Ashworth’s powers away he had forgotten about her—too caught up in trying to save his daughter and her empire to worry about someone who was no longer a threat.

He did think about her afterwards.

Once he was back in the tower and Emily sat strong and noble on her throne. He thought about Ashworth’s crumbled body that begged and pleaded for it not to be so. He couldn’t help but pity her—he too had a connection to the Void and he had no idea how he would react if it was brutally severed from him.

He read about her trial and conviction in the paper and couldn’t help but think that some acts that spared death were not merciful.

Chaos or whatever force that moves through the universe, connecting actions and reactions across time does not care about mercy either. It does not care about intention or wants but simply cause and effect. It would not have cared if Ashworth had died that night—but all actions have consequences. Corvo, as he always strives to do so, looked for a way to eliminate Ashworth from play without spilling her blood.

This led to Halmoth finding her and eventually convincing a group of overseers to spare her life as well. This led to her sitting in her cell 23 hours out of every day--the hour she was set free was to be used for penance where she sited strictures, cleaned floors, re-stacked books, or translated manuscripts. During that hour Halmoth, if he was in Dunwall, would visit her. He would do most of the talking and she would pretend not to listen.

“I fear the Outsider’s influence is gaining popularity among the masses. I can feel the change in the air. Heretics are less fearful of us—shrines have been found built in the site of windows. I saw a boy, no older than eight, playing with a bone charm in the street…”

Halmoth became more impassioned as he spoke. Breanna listened with half an ear as she dusted a low self in the back of the library. She had come to enjoy these “talks”; they afforded her reprieve from her thoughts that were now bland and two dimensional.

Halmoth still was ranting. “…and the Empress does nothing! Three months we have had High Overseer Frye and she has yet to meet with him! I don’t understand. With the destruction and corruption we endured under Delilah it should be in the crown’s best interest to help reform the Abby!”

Breanna snorted. Well, that’s no surprise she thought, with who her father—“Wait.”

It was the first word she had spoken to anyone in a month and Halmoth snapped his mouth shut out of surprise. Breanna was looking directly at him, her eyes wide and glowing. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

  
\--

  
[After]

“It’s mine.”

There were moments in life that passed by and their importance or significance was lost within the sea of possibilities where it was only years later that you realized turning left instead of right changed the entire course of your life.

This was not one of those moments.

Emily could feel the repercussions of this statement echo right after the words left her mouth. A mix of twenty overseers stared at her in stunned horror. There was a deep and forbidding silence hanging over the room.

Vice Overseer Halmoth pointed at the rune lying innocently on the table shrine. “That is yours?”

The brother that frantically rushed into the kitchens looking for Vice Overseer Halmoth had led them here: a building off-shot from the main palace across the gardens. Emily hadn't even known it existed and quickly surmised that during the reconstruction, Corvo probably built this himself. It was cobbled together with a mix-mash of objects, broken weapons, towers of old-letters, and a small, single shrine in the far corner.

“Yes.” She answered, and Halmoth seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

Emily Kaldwin was an empress and she would not be cowed to speak when she did not please.

Halmoth seemed to realize this and cleared his throat. “You realize the consequences of being in possession of a heretical artifact?”

“I have been awake for the past five months, Vice Overseer. Nor was I raised underneath a boulder.” Her voice cut like steel and she felt herself stand taller, straighter towering above the men in the room, even those that were technically of greater height.

“Well—then Empress Emily Kaldwin, first of her name, I hereby declare that you are in violation of the sacred strictures and will be imprisoned within the Abby until a judgment is passed upon you.”

No one moved.

“Arrest her!” Halmoth commanded.

 

[End of Part I]


	2. Part II: The Masses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to all the people that read, liked, and commented on this story. It means so much to have so many people reading this, and I honestly didn't expect it! So, thank you and I hope Part II lives up to your expectations!

_Lover come over, kick up the dust_  
_I got a secret starting to rust._  
_She said I’m looking like a bad man, smooth criminal_  
_She said my spirit doesn’t move like it did before_  
_She said that I don’t look like me no more, no more_  
_I said I’m just tired. She said I’m just tired._  
_I said I saw you in the water_  
_Don’t I make you cringe?_  
_-_ -Matt Maeson, “Cringe”

Part II: The Masses

[Before]

Part of the reason why Breanna Ashworth had risen in Delilah’s ranks so quickly was not due to her intelligence or her position as a curator, but due to her ability to read people. Delilah first saw Breanna at one of the many parties hosted by aristocrats showing off their wealth; she watched as the thin woman weaved her way from person to person expertly adapting her posture, tone, and personality to each group effortlessly charming them. That ability, to breakdown anyone that stood in her way, was what originally drew Delilah to Breanna.

They had formed a bond almost immediately, stronger on Breanna’s side than on Delilah’s, because it turned out that Delilah became the one person Breanna couldn’t read. She saw the hunger, hurt, and anger, but that’s because Delilah wanted to her to see that, everything else was hidden and locked deep, deep down.

The thing about Breanna’s gift was that she had it long before she dabbled in the magic of the Void. When she finally found herself behind the emptiness of where the void magic had been after the dull, long days spent in the care of the Abbey, it was to the constant presence of Vice Overseer Halmoth.

And unlike Delilah, she could read him like an open book, and revealed in the idea of making someone dance exactly to the beat she provided again.

“Why would I help you?” Halmoth asks after she teased information about the Royal Protector in his face.

“You help me and I can give you thing you want most—I can give you The Outsider.” She pleaded almost desperately, easily falling back into one of her many personas. Really, his wants were so simple and bland that it was almost embarrassing how quickly he fell into her trap. “Think about it Halmoth: to be the Overseer that once and for all destroyed the darkness and brought peace and light eternal to the people.”

“How would you do this?” Halmoth tentatively asked.

“I have been translating the thousands of texts that you keep here, and unlike the brothers and sisters here, I actually understand what I’m translating. I need access to all your texts that were written by some philosopher going by the name of Jycob; the first installment only vaguely mentioned his magical process, but I believe he found a way to pull The Outsider down to our level.”

Halmoth’s face made an ugly expression, “Through the use of heresy.”

“Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, Halmoth.”

Halmoth fell silent. The only sound was the distant scuffle of paper a few aisles down—the high shelves of books, manuscripts, and newspapers did a good job of blocking most sound. It was why the libraries were some of the most popular places to discuss sensitive matters in the Office of the High Overseer (most officials’ actual offices contained at list one recording device if not several).

Breanna watched the confliction run across Halmoth’s aging face, and for the first time in months, she felt a sudden burst of excitement—she still had this, and it was only the first step in manipulation: get him to trust her.

“Why would you want to destroy your god?” He finally asked.

“He is not my god,” Breanna feigned hurt even going so far as to turn her head away in shame. “He betrayed me and, and—“ She blinked away fake tears, “—after spending time here, in the Abbey, I realized how awful The Outsider had been to me and everyone who comes across him.”

At the end of her confession, Breanna glanced up at Halmoth and after a few seconds, he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. “You have come a long way, Breanna and your motives are pure.”

“Then you will help me?” Step two: make him think he’s helping her and not the other way around.

“Yes, you tell me what you know about the Dunwall Palace and I will give you access to our restricted heretical texts.”

\--

[After]

Things happened very quickly once Emily confessed to owning heretical artifacts. She was immediately escorted out of the palace and into the nearest Overseer Outpost in Dunwall. She spent at most a day there, lying on a cot with a guard by the door before Vice Overseer Halmoth came back.

He seemed angry but Emily didn’t get to see much before a bag was shoved over her head and a needle shoved into her arm immediately knocking her unconscious.

She awoke in a stone cell.

It was cold and silent.

She tapped her fingers against the bed frame and the sound echoed for several seconds bouncing of the seemingly endless stone walls. There wasn’t anything in the cell besides a cot and a bucket. Once in a while, her father would drop snippets about his time in prison, but she never really understood his development of muteness until now. She can easily imagine that embracing and reflecting the silence would be easier than trying to speak over it.

After sitting on the cot for few hours thinking through all the decisions that led to this point, Emily stood up and pushed up against the bars. There are no cells in front of her, only a solid wall, there is a guard at the end of the hall, and one leaning right outside her cell too busy smoking to pay attention to her. She can’t make out anything else, but based on how far away the first guard is, her cell is probably the last.

She wonders if there are other people in the cells next to hers.

Halmoth comes to visit her days later and has two overseers drag her out the cell. She uses the opportunity to begin a mental map of the prison and ignores the bruising grips and ever-growing fear.

After several minutes, she is pushed into a room that is just a larger version of her cell that only has a single dentistry-like chair and a machine.  
“Strap her in,” Halmoth commanded.

The straps are tight and dig into her thighs, upper arms, and wrists; that uncomfortableness was forgotten once Halmoth walked over and the machine roared menacingly to life. Two cold pieces of rubber were attached to her temples.

“We will now begin your reformation,” Halmoth stated.

\--

[Before]

It had taken Kirin Jindosh three weeks to form his first coherent thought after the Masked Felon had scrambled his brains using his own machine. Ironically, that first thought was how to improve the electro-machine to deliver stronger volts to a more concentrated area.

It had taken him another two weeks to physically install the improvements—electricity was murder on small motor control. It had taken him another week to forgive Corvo Attano and another three days to appreciate his form of poetic justice.

Never let it be said that Kirin Jindosh was a man that held grudges.

(His capture and torture of Anton Sokolov was simply another experiment, nothing personal).

He was simply a man that got bored, often.

So, when the beautifully damaged Breanna came to his door asking if he wanted to touch the Void and bring back the dead his scientific curiosity could not refuse. In his single minded purpose to know all, he often forgot about things like laws and morality. They seemed like such unimportant concepts when mastery of natural forces was only a blow torch and an equation away.

Never let it be said; however, that Kirin Jindosh was a man that did not also learn from his mistakes.

That was how the best and greatest scientific discoveries are made through trial and error. One must be comfortable with failing if they ever wish to succeed. At this point in his life, Kirin was a master of failure. He could now wield it like a fine blade across a throat.

So, once he reacquired control over his mind and body he closed his mansion to the public and stopped the steady stream of people that came in to try to rob or buy from him (often at the same time). He also released all hired guards and staff except for a single maid and cook—he was a newly reformed man, not a pauper.

His demise had spread quickly across the Isles, but his recovery took a little more time: the nature of good versus bad news and all that. By the time he had recovered, the world had moved on. Delilah was dead, the Duke had a change of heart, Aramis Stilton ended his seclusion, and Empress Emily Kaldwin sat on her rightful throne—Kirin Jindosh was old news.

That did not stop the Abbey from visiting him after the Inquisition was announced asking for money and aid (as if they were not one in the same).

They wanted clockwork soldiers; he informed them that he never made repeat designs and since all were destroyed by the Masked Felon, they were out of luck.  
(A voice in the back of his head told him that even if he did have a soldier or two left over, he wouldn’t give it to those psychos anyway. Kirin tried to ignore that newly acquired voice as often as possible).

So, he gave them his electro-machine.

He figured they could do the least amount of damage with it and he was growing quite bored of it anyways. If he occasionally felt waves of terror crash through him when he looked at it, well, they didn’t have to know that.

It also gave him an excuse to visit the Abbey whenever he wished, and since they were making such a big ruckus lately, it allowed him a front seat view of the action. And it was about time that he used that excuse to congratulate the newly appointed High Overseer Frye.

\--

[After]

Emily knew that man.

The one that just waltzed into the room as if he himself planned, built, and owned it. He did not blend like the overseers did with their drab, matching clothing.  
No, this man was a peacock; not just brightly colored, but used to standing out in a crowd. His gait was self-assured, his boots well-shined, and his coat cut perfectly to his body. This was the first person that Emily has seen in over a week that was not a devout worshipper.

And she knew him.

“Hello, Empress,” said Kirin Jindosh.

\--

The Outsider opened his eyes.

Strange, he did not remember closing them and this place was not the Void.

He had been watching a girl, a very interesting girl who would grow up to become the Duchess of Serkonos by either blood or subterfuge, and then he was here.

He willed himself back to the Void.

He did not move. Strange, he still felt the connection—magic and power flowed through his empty veins. But the place was blocked like being stuck behind a glass door.  
So, he was limited to this plane for now.

How—“What are you doing here?”

“Daud.” –Interesting.

\--

[Before]

“Your fairytales are quiet entertaining. Though their grasp on magic is tenuous, they do manage to get essentials right.”

Corvo was too busy reading Justin’s report to pay attention to the Outsider’s ramblings.

Justin was only a boy of sixteen and had come into Corvo’s service after the boy had tried to pick pocket him one night. The kid had almost made away with his coin pouch and Corvo couldn’t let talent like that go to waste on the streets. He was one of the first boys he sent over to spy on the Abbey and his reports though written in terrible English were very detailed.

He couldn’t remember the last time he slept and the words on the reports began to swim before his eyes. He rapidly blinked trying to fit the words back into their proper places—it was then that the Outsider’s voice filtered into his consciousness. “Wait, you said that the fairytales had gotten something right—about magic?”

“They referred to it as ‘the heart of the thing you loved most’; a wonderful turn of phrase, but not wholly inaccurate. The most powerful spells require the greatest sacrifice—you have to exchange one want for another.”

Corvo was confused. “Were we—did I ask about that?”

The Outsider closed the same book he had been reading so many nights ago and frowned. “No, Corvo I was simply relying what I had found fascinating. I was informed that friends ‘talk about their days’ to each other. Now, I no longer experience days, but—“

Corvo tiredly watched the Void God thoroughly explain the cause behind his actions. It was like most of his cryptic speeches and his voice over the years had become somewhat soothing, and very quickly Corvo’s eyes began to close and the vision of the god casually leaning against the back of a chair darkened. He could feel his head fall forward and he immediately jerked it back upright.

The Outsider was smiling at him. “Do let me know if I am boring you.”

“I’m sorry,” the apology was half-assed. “I have been up for what feels like days trying to calm the shit-storm the Abbey started.” He used Emily’s new term for the Inquisition. The Outsider’s expression turned to one of annoyance.

“Yes, the Abbey of the Everyman leading another crusade to purge the land of my corruption. It has been done before. They will not succeed.”

“You have foreseen it?” Corvo perked up.

“I have foreseen all, but it rarely makes sense at first. I have not seen the end of this particular story,” Corvo sighed, not offering answers then. “But, I have seen the Abbey and others try these same tactics only to fail time and time again.”

The Outsider almost sounded bored. “Is that why you read?”

“Exactly, I do not know the end of a fictional story, only real ones.”

\--

[After]

The Outsider was so unimpressed by Daud leveling a sword in his face that he imagined if he could of, he would have rolled his eyes. As it stood, he simply placed a pale hand on the weapon and pushed it to the side, easily overcoming Daud’s strength.

“You never fail to be predictable, Daud.”

Daud growled. “Can’t fault me for trying,” he threw the sword to the side and continued, “What are you doing here, you bastard? I didn’t summon you and there certainly isn’t a shrine here.”

“Yes, well a shrine would clearly ruin the homeless aesthetic of this hovel you’re living in,” The god drily replied while glancing quickly around the room. “And while I don’t remember my parents, I know I did have them so I can’t qualify as a ‘bastard’.”

Daud’s anger is palpable, but instead of punching the god like he wants to, he wandered over to the only chair and table in the room and sat. He’s known the god long enough that it’s easier to accept his presence than fight it—might as well be comfortable.

The Outsider is quiet for a few seconds, and then a look of curiosity filters across his face. When he speaks it’s not directed at Daud, “I cannot seem to leave.”

“What.”

“I believe I am ‘stuck’ in this plane.”

Daud feels a mixture of concern and annoyance, “How is that possible?” Thoughts of Delilah filter through his mind, and he doesn’t want to fight any more witches on behalf of this god. It’s on his tongue to immediately refuse before the god interrupts him.

“The more important question is, why here?”

Again, the god has Daud lost. “Out of all the places I could have been trapped on this plane why this specific place and with you?”

“Someone deliberately, what, sent you to me?” Daud is more confused than annoyed at this point. “Who knows about me besides you and your pet?”

“Pet?” The Outsider cocks his head, “Oh, you mean Corvo. Very clever, but none of my marked have the ability to affect me physically. It would be like using water against the ocean.”

The god poignantly looked directly at Daud, and the assassin glares right back.

“There are no witches powerful enough that are alive during this current time line,” The Outsider answered the unspoken question, and Daud snorted before conceding.  
Silence descended on the room.

Though Daud still feels the seething hatred for the god, he can’t help but feel an equal amount of confusion at his current situation. And Daud doesn’t know how to talk to the god if it doesn’t involve a lot yelling, cursing or insults, so he falls silent in the face of potentially being forced to have a somewhat civil conversation.

The Outsider also offers no further conversation and instead, continues his perusal of the room. It’s literally just a room with a mattress pushed towards the far wall, the place Daud is sitting at could be described as a kitchen, one window, and peeling, brown paint. He didn’t realize how used to the palace walls he had been until faced with existing in a place that is its extreme opposite.

“Where am I?”

Daud stops tapping his fingers against the table, “Tyvia, outside of Caltan.”

That is why the smell of ocean is so strong, The Outsider surmises.

“Dunwall’s thata way,” Daud points vaguely southwards and sneers at the god. “Corvo will probably be waiting for you in those fancy halls when you get there.”  
Another silence descended on the room.

\--

[Before]

“Ah, Mr. Jindosh what a pleasant surprise,” the tone of the brother’s voice implied the opposite sentiment, but Kirin ignored the words and his tone completely, and continued into the building.

The brother’s quick footsteps echoed behind his on the new marble floors. “Sir, where are you going?”

“Where is High Overseer Frye?” Kirin asked ignoring the man altogether.

Flustered, he answered, “In his office, but Sir, he’s not receiving visitors—“

Kirin rolled his eyes and sharply turned on his heel. The brother, not expecting him to suddenly stop, almost ran into him and was only slowed by Kirin lazily lifting his hand and pushing the man back.

“I am not a visitor, I am a paying customer. I don’t know if the little people have been informed, but I made quite the contribution to your petty witch hunt.”

The brother’s face was turning purple in embarrassment and Kirin completely ignored it. “So, I am going to see Frye and since you were so kind as to tell me where he is I will make sure to name drop you in the conversation and you can get more brownie points than the rest of the boy scouts.”

The speech ended with Kirin patting the full-grown man on the cheek before turning and striding up the stairs nodding at the wolfhound and his owner that he passed by. He continued to nod a greeting at every person he passed, even at the guard that was too surprised to stop him before he strolled into the High Overseer’s office.

Sadly, he did not catch the man in any comprising position, but there was always another day.

“Good Evening, High Overseer.” He gave an exaggerated bow and then began picking up and examining every bobble and trinket in the room. “So, I’ve heard some pretty interesting rumors about this inquisition thing in the past few days.”

If the Overseer was surprised, he hid it well. He calmly put down the paper he was reading and turned in his chair to properly face the visitor. The audiograph was softly playing a popular blues singer from Morley.

“Oh, are these rumors spread by heretics?”

“I don’t associate with heretics.” Kirin quickly replied and then winked at the Overseer before returning to turning over one of the many clocks in the room. “I’ve heard that you have been putting my machine to use, finally.”

Frye solemnly nodded. “Yes, it has been quite helpful in rummaging out the corrupted in this city; you should be proud.”

Kirin waved the comment off, “Yes, yes I am proud of myself. My mother always told me I was special. But I want to know how the machine is working. I am a man of science first, and a religious one second after all.”

“We are all men of religion first, Mr. Jindosh.”

“Then as one man of religion to another, will you kindly tell me where my machine is?” Jindosh smiled and threw out, “Oh, and congrats on your promotion.”

\--

[After]

Kirin Jindosh had appeared on the fourth ‘reformation session’, and subsequently, to every single, one after that for the past few weeks.

Emily learned quickly that he did not come to visit her—no, he came to visit with the electro-machine. Apparently, it had been his design though he had neither yet taken public credit for it nor was his name on the machine itself.

He would greet her by her title every time—she could see that the overseers assigned to watch these sessions did not approve of that, but they seemed reluctant to speak up against the man without Vice Overseer Halmoth present.

“Hello, Empress,” said Kirin Jindosh as he entered the room with his usual flare.

He left the cell door open forcing an overseer to rush over and shut it for him. If Emily had any strength left in her, she would have snorted. But with the electricity still coursing through her veins she could little in the way of voluntary movement—her actions were involuntary twitches and being able to roll her head to view one side of the room or the other.

He took his normal path towards the machine.

It was close enough to Emily that she could smell his cologne (expensive and heavy) as he worked with his back to her. She listened as he tinkered away mumbling under his breath. Talking to the machine was a habit of his and Emily cherished just being able to listen to speech that didn’t involve the words heresy, Void, or brothers. During this time, she was usually able to drift off; not fall asleep but allow her mind to wander. She would wonder about her people, about her father, and about how she was going to be able to escape from this place. Corvo had taught her everything he knew from pickpocketing to back-alley brawls. She knew enough to memorize guard rotations, which guards would be easily subdued, and how to escape handcuffs.

But in the entire time she had been here, she had yet to be left alone for more than a few hours at night. She was starting to panic fearing that she would actually die in her four by four cell.

“Damnit!”

Jindosh’s exclamation pulled her out of her thoughts and back into the present where sparks and a small, but growing flame leapt out of the electro-machine.

He turned around nursing his index finger and began frantically waving at the guard/overseer who stood next to the door. “I require aid, you buffoon! Go fetch me some water!”

The overseer obeyed the command as instilled in him from his Abbey training. The cell door clinked shut behind him and his hurried footsteps faded down the hall. Jindosh immediately titled his head downward and for the first time in a week he made eye contact with the empress.

“It will take him less than two minutes to arrive back here with a bucket of water.” Emily looked up at him, not really comprehending his words. It was hard to focus with the bright flashes of blue and red highlighting his profile. “It will, however, not fix my machine. I have damaged it beyond repair,” he leaned down and smirked. “You’re welcome.”

She had yet to regain the finer muscle control required to scowl, but she hoped her narrowed eyes conveyed her annoyance. Jindosh’s smirk grew. “I can practically hear you calling me a bastard, how wonderful. But I did not come here to flirt so we’ll save the small talk for another day.”

She felt a weight settle on her hip. It was warm and moved as if to caress, but as quickly as it was there it vanished. Jindosh placed his other hand deliberately next to her head; he wore a silver ring on his thumb.

“A gift, Empress; do be sure not to lose it.”

His expression was fun and playful, but his eyes were serious.

Emily did not understand what was happening.

He leaned down further, close enough that she could see flecks of green in his hazel eyes and the stubble growing around his mustache. “5…4…3…” she watched his lips form around each word. “2…1…”

He pushed himself up and turned to around in a single, smooth motion right as the overseer slammed the cell door open. The bucket of water sloshed as he raced across the room to throw it on the ever widening flames. Soon, servants came in carrying their own buckets to douse the flames.

Jindosh did not lend a hand to help.

Emily waited two hours after she was escorted back into her cell to reach down and pat her left hip. There was something in her pocket. She reached in and within the pale beam of a cold moon a gold key glittered in the light.

The key was heavy in her hand. She kept opening up her palm and glancing at every few seconds just to make sure it was still there.

She couldn’t fathom why Kirin Jindosh of all people would help her like this, but the time for those thoughts was not now. Now, she had to put her father’s skills to the test and escape this place with her life and, hopefully, her crown. She would leave soon she couldn’t risk carrying this key out of her cell. She would have to leave tonight, and within the next hour while it was still dark.

She placed the key between her teeth and began crudely tying her hair up and out of her face. She then bent over and rolled up her pant legs, the trousers given to her often dragged on the floor. Once that was done, she tugged the pillow case off of the one pillow on her cot and twisted it until it resembled a very short rope.

The guard in front of her cell door coughed.

It was a cough that he had for the past few days and it was only getting worse. At night, he would often leave her cell to get some water and would be gone for several minutes at a time.

He coughed again, louder.

Emily positioned herself by the cell door and gently put the key into the lock. The guard began hacking and quickly rushed off to the left.

Emily counted to five, turned the key, and slipped through the door. She shut and locked it behind her, hoping to give herself a few minutes head start before they even noticed she was gone.

The map of the parts of the building she had been dragged through flashed in her mind and she turned right heading for a door on the far wall. They kept her cell isolated from the others that were surely imprisoned here, but she kept to the shadows anyways and gently shut the door behind her. It was a stairwell and she headed up.

She would never make it past the front entrance there were most likely too many guards and wolfhounds, but she would have a shot if she found a way to climb down from the back of the structure. The roof was three stories up. She had just passed one story when a door above her opened and closed. Emily threw herself against the wall, making herself as small as possible.

She prayed the person was going up, but the footsteps became louder. They were approaching her with a slow pace, but coming closer nonetheless. She gripped the twisted pillow case in her right hand and waited. She waited until there was a glimpse of brown and leapt from her cover striking the overseer in the throat to cut off his shout, forcefully turned him around and wrapped the pillow case around his throat. She pulled tight; he struggled but was too dazed to use his weight against her before he passed out.

She left him in the stairwell.

There wasn’t enough time to find a place to hide him.

She took the next set of stairs much faster and louder than the previous. She saw the metal door labeled Rooftop Entrance and pushed it open.

Cool, crisp night hair hit her and for the first time in weeks she breathed it in.

She could not dally though, and quietly shut the door behind her and began scanning the roof. There were two guards on the roof each facing east and west.  
Good, they had their backs to each other if she could take them out quick enough they would be none the wiser to her presence. The wind was strong up here it and would hopefully help to mask any additional sound.

She gripped her makeshift weapon in hand and crept towards the eastern guard. He was slim and leaning over the edge.

Relaxed, Emily thought.

She kept low and slunk through the darkness. She had her eye on the prize and when she was in striking distance she attacked twisting the weapon around his neck and pulling.  
In her single mindedness, she did not clock the table next to the guard and the bottle that rested on top. His arms flailed widely and the bottle crashed, scattering against stone.  
Emily winced, the other guard heard that for sure, but she needed to take this one out first.

She pulled tighter and the man finally became limp in her arms. She heard footsteps behind her.

She cursed, dropped the man and turned.

Her face met the barrel of a gun. “Empress?!”

The hand holding it was shrouded in darkness, but the voice was unmistakable, “Jindosh.”

He looked the same: black hair perfectly coiffed, clothes tailored neatly to fit his lithe form, and his sharp eyes drinking in every detail and picking it apart.

She knew he saw the red marks on her wrists, the various stains and holes on her tunic, the bagginess of her pants, and the unwashed and disheveled state of her hair. She no longer looked like the title he kept calling her. She resisted the need to hunch, hiding herself from his view.

She did not cower before men like Kirin Jindosh.

He continued to stare not quite believing his eyes, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Despite her state, which was awful she still managed to exude a larger-than-life presence. He watched as she subtlety stood straighter and pointedly stared not at him, but the gun.

He lowered it. “I see you’ve made excellent and quick use out of my gift.”

“I hope it did not come with a price.” Emily fired back. Jindosh’s motives were still unknown and she wouldn’t trust this man as far as she could throw him.

He chuckled. “No price.”

She waited for him to elaborate, he didn’t. Outsider, this man is infuriating, Emily cursed and was about to press him for answers when an alarm shattered the cool, night air. Jindosh visibly jumped and dropped the gun.

Emily snatched it from the ground and raised it in a reverse of their earlier positions.

“Give me one reason not to shoot you.” She said as Jindosh calmly raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I gave you a way out.”

“You also helped a murderess bitch take my throne,” Emily snarled.

“Are we not past that yet?”

“No.”

Kirin sighed. “I have no ill will against you, Your Majesty. I simply wanted to help.” Emily stared him suspiciously.

“I don’t believe you.” She cocked the gun. The alarm continued to sound and blended with the thunderous noise of waves breaking below. “I do not believe Karnaca would mourn your loss.”

Brief panic flashed across his eyes. “Empress—Emily, I am no longer your enemy.”

The use of her first name immediately caught Emily’s attention, but it was the sound of loud footsteps that caused her to lower the gun and quickly turn to watch the only entrance onto the roof. She needed to leave. Now. “If I leave you up here, they will assume you helped me.”

Jindosh lowered his arms and his natural smirk replaced the fear. “But I did help you, Dear Empress. I’m reason you’re standing here and not in a tiny cell counting down the days ‘til your inevitable death.”

Her response was cut off by the rooftop door banging open. Instinct forced Emily to turn and shoot—her aim was true and the sound of a bullet breaking through skin immediately followed the gunshot. The brother cursed and Emily, without thinking, grabbed Kirin’s hand and began running.

“Wh—“was all Emily heard over the wind and the alarm.

They reached the opposite end of the roof, gunshots landing at their heels. Emily took one second to glance down and see the sharp rocks disappear into the black waves.  
Another second, she calculated the chance of surviving the jump and missing the rocks. The next second she threw the gun to the side, grabbed Jindosh’s vest and pulled him close.

“Thanks.”

Jindosh’s confused look was the last thing she saw before pulling both of them over the railing and into the sea; the sound of guns and shouts trailing behind them.

\--

Unlike the previous High Overseers, Frye was not content to sit in Dunwall and ignore his people in favor of getting rich and living easy. He traveled often to every city and town in Gristol to spread the light to those shrouded in darkness. (This also had the added benefit of making it significantly harder to be assassinated, which he constantly feared thanks to the stories told to him by his parents about their service with the Abbey during the rat plague). It wasn’t very often that he would be found within the walls of the actual Office of the High Overseer, but when he was he knew that there was one person who would always see him: Vice Overseer Halmoth.

“High Overseer, I am glad to see you have returned to us so soon.” He bowed.

Halmoth was older than himself by a couple decades and was a strong candidate for the title of High Overseer. Frye has great respect for the man and as soon as he won, he asked Halmoth to be his second and help him guide the Abbey into a place of strength and power.

Frye stood up from behind his desk and approached Halmoth for a quick hug. “I am glad to be back, Brother. My trip to Wynnedown went very well.”

“The people are responding to the inquisition?”

“Yes, even though it has been less than a year, I can already feel the difference within each place I visit: the night is less dark and the screeching of charms is dull and faded.” Frye summarized while pouring out two drinks.

Halmoth accepted the drink with a smile. “Though I am overjoyed to hear this, I have come barring my own good news.”

Frye motioned him to continue taking a sip of his drink.

“I believe I have found the reason why the evil god’s corruption grew so fast and strong within the Isles,” Halmoth paused to knock back the rest of his drink. “I was informed that there were heretical artifacts within the palace, and Empress Kaldwin herself, claimed ownership of them when we went to cleanse the place.”

“When was this?” Frye asked surprised.

“Two days ago, she is now resting in the outpost at Whitecliff,” Halmoth preened.

Halmoth’s expression fell, however, when the High Overseer’s reaction was not one of joy, but worry and concern. He retreated back behind his desk and sat down heavily, his hands reaching up to warily run through his hair.

“This is—this is a terrible outcome, brother,” Frye finally spoke.

“I don’t understand. Surely, without the Empress’s deception, the Abbey will be free to finally cleanse the Isles once and for all,” Halmoth defended.

This is the reason that Frye was elected to High Overseer: he was able to understand and play the political game as well as lead the Abbey in religious matters. Halmoth had been a brother for too long, he could no longer think outside of the walls of the Abbey. Frye sighed, “Yes, but as soon as it's announced that the Empress has been imprisoned that’s all the people will care about. For the past decade, the political unrest has dominated all matters of state, which is why The Outsider was allowed to flourish.”

“Are you suggesting letting her go?” Halmoth spoke through clenched teeth trying to hide his anger—it was the first time he ever felt like this about the High Overseer. “The crown is not above the Seven Scriptures.”

“No,” Frye admitted. “She must be held accountable, but until I can figure out the best way to inform the people, we will keep it hidden.” He pointed at Halmoth, “This will stay within the Abbey, and the only people that will know are the ones at Whitecliff, do you understand?”

“Yes, High Overseer,” Halmoth bit out before bowing and leaving the room.

The door slammed shut behind him and he didn’t bother trying to catch it. He stalked down the hallways ignoring the greetings from his fellow brothers and sisters. He couldn’t believe the audacity of the High Overseer—he was supposed to be the beacon of the Abbey and yet he is willing to cower under the power of the Empress. Frye was wrong, the reason heresy has prospered in the Isles was because of men like him who lose sight of their true calling to serve the light.

He continued this line of thought until he descended down the stairs leading into the sub-basements where the reformers were kept. The brother immediately opened the gate to let him in and he walked towards the very back of the row of cells.

“Breanna,” he called out into the dark.

There was a sound of the bed creaking and a few seconds later, Breanna’s worn face entered into the light by the bars. She didn’t offer any words waiting for Halmoth to say what he came down here to tell her.

“You were right; the High Overseer is not willing to act out against the monarchy,” Halmoth admitted with his head bowed.

He did not see Breanna’s quick smirk—step three: isolate him.

“Then we will carry the fight against the dark ourselves,” Breanna said in a reserved voice.

Halmoth with his head still bowed turned to leave, and as he turned away he spoke one last time, “I will bring you those texts tomorrow.”

\--

Jindosh and Emily crawled onto shore.

The night was cool before, but it quickly turned freezing once they heaved their soaked frames into the sand and air. Emily immediately pushed herself onto hands and knees spitting up the salt water she had swallowed, while Jindosh flopped onto his back.

“The ocean has to be one of the worst places in the Isles,” Jindosh said will spitting out salt water.

Emily scratchily replied, “Are you alive? Then, you’re welcome.”

“I could have talked my way out of it.”

“You don’t realize how much people hate, do you?”

“It’s a gift.”

Emily forced herself to her feet and kicked weakly at Jindosh’s shoulder. He hissed in response, but still took the command for what it was and began trying to stand as well. Emily didn’t bother to help, but was more in favor of taking in their surroundings.They were on one of the few leisure beaches in Dunwall. There were buildings directly in front of them, and a shipyard to their right. Assuming they didn’t swim to far from where they jumped, then she had been imprisoned somewhere near Whitecliff.

“I was in Whitecliff this whole time?” Emily whispered. “So close to home.”

Jindosh ignored her tentative sign of vulnerability and joked, “Yes, apparently no one explained irony to them--I tried, but they didn’t seem to listen.”

Make a plan of action, her father’s voice told her. She began to estimate how long she was gone, and how long it would take her to reach Dunwall by foot, which would be the ultimate goal. But even if she did that there was less than a zero percent chance of walking through her palace gates without being tackled by at least ten overseers. And even if she did get to her throne, she would have to take it back without the support of the Abbey and avoiding the inquisition. She glanced sideways towards Jindosh and wondered if her plans should include the man or not.

“You are thinking quite loudly, Empress,” Jindosh commented while brushing various oceanic things off of his clothes.

“I am trying to decide if I should throw you back into the sea,” she snapped back.

“Literally or metaphorically?”

Emily didn’t answer. Truthfully, no matter how much she couldn’t stand the man, she needed all the allies she could get right now—he wouldn’t be bad to keep around with his influence, wealth, and knowledge if only he wouldn’t stab her in the back at the end.

“How are the people reacting to my heresy?” She asked the one question that’s been plaguing her mind since her confession.

“They aren’t,” she looked at him incredulously. “There wasn’t a single announcement, press release, or official decree by the Abbey stating your arrest.”

That was interesting, Emily thought. Why would they hide this unless, “are they worried about the fallout if I was imprisoned?”

“Yes, I believe that that man Frye is slightly smarter than I gave him credit for or he has smart people advising him either way, you’re disappearance has been covered-up,” Jindosh answered.

Emily’s mind was whirling with scenarios, ideas, possibilities and each one seemed more impossible than the next. Even with this small amount of good news, it still means that the Abbey’s inquisition is powerful enough to completely cover-up her arrest—meaning that Corvo probably also doesn’t about it.

A cold hand on her forearm interrupted Emily’s thoughts.

“Speaking as someone who spends most of his time unhealthily obsessing about things for days at a time, it will be much easier to think after having rested,” he eyed their state of dress, “and changed into dry clothes.”

As much as she doesn’t want to agree and just solve everything now, she knows Jindosh is right. They are completely exposed on this beach and the Abbey did clearly witness them jump into the sea, which would lead them to patrolling the shores shortly.

\--

[Before]

“How do you deal with it?”

It was the first words spoken since The Outsider had arrived that night. On a rare occasion, Corvo was actually in his bed propped up on pillows reading a novel. It had been a long day of secret reports (and some actual roof-hopping), and after having taken two separate involuntary dips into the ocean, Corvo had decided that a shower and a bed is what he deserved. He hadn’t bothered putting on a night shirt, just lazily pulled on an old pair of underwear and practically crawled into bed. However, his body having not slept at a decent hour in years would not fall asleep, which is how The Outsider found him a few minutes later indulging in a book.

The question was directed at the god sitting at the foot of the bed. He titled his head as a motion for Corvo to elaborate.

“With people constantly slandering your name—doesn’t it start to, I don’t know, bother you?” He looked over the top of the book at him, and The Outsider seemed to be seriously contemplating his answer.

He spoke after a few minutes. “At first, I did not care. I did not know myself well enough to feel anything when people screamed against The Outsider—I was not him, yet.” He shifted in a very human way and Corvo had to use all of his skills to not react. “Once, I truly became The Outsider, once I had forgotten my old name, I tried to change people’s perceptions.”

“I would appear before the sick, the poor, the needy and offer assistance. Most ran away in fear, but some stayed and listened. I couldn’t offer much, nothing physical, but I could weave together stories both real and imaginary—so I did.”

The Outsider was looking down at his own entwined hands. “The first person I marked was a little girl. She was—I don’t know how old—but young, small. She was sick, her parents were gone and she lived on a mattress in an ally by the sea. I would visit her every day, bringing intangible things, but she just became more ill.”

“I thought what was the point of being a god if I couldn’t even heal this girl? So I tried—I pulled as much of the Void into myself as I could and then transferred it to her. Her hand burned and the next day I found her talking to the rats.”

Corvo opened his mouth to say something, but The Outsider cut him off. “The day after that she died from her illness.”

The god’s stare was indecipherable, but for a split second the thousands of years he had lived flashed across his face.

\--

[After]

“I do not know how to navigate this plane,” The Outsider said in response to a comment Daud had made almost two hours ago.

Once The Outsider carefully sat down on the mattress, Daud had accepted his fate that the god was going to be staying with him for the night. Though he hated every passing moment sharing the same air as the bastard, he knew that he didn’t have the power or the strength to physically kick the god to the curb. So he decided to take the higher road, and just pretended that the void god wasn’t there. Daud went about his business as usual: cleaning guns, sharpening knives, and mapping out potential targets for his next heist, because that’s what he did now—alone--thanks to the god sitting a few yards away.

When The Outsider spoke, Daud visibly flinched. It would be harder to ignore him if he starting talking, but Daud was determined and kept his head down and eyes fixed on the gun that was now in pieces on the table.

“I must ask for assistance in reaching Dunwall.”

“Well, I’m sure one of your many sycophants will gladly help you out,” Daud broke his silence to quip.

He forced his gaze to remain on sharpening his knives once he heard the god move. “I am assuming that by the amount of nicknames you are using, ‘pet’ and ‘sycophant’, that you are avoiding calling them ‘marked’ because it reminds you that you are one and, therefore, attached to me just as much as the people you hate.”

Daud clenched his teeth together so hard that it hurt—the pain helped distract from the rage and shame of being dissected and laid bare in his own home.

“But,” the god continued, “I need to clarify that the only marked alive currently are you and Corvo.”

Daud unlocked his jaw and responded, “Maybe, you should have been more liberal with your precious mark, because there is no way I am helping you.”

“Then can you put me into contact with someone who will?” The Outsider compromised, his need to see Corvo and fix this mess outweighing his pride.

It was on the tip of tongue to say no, but Daud hesitated. As much as he disliked the god, he did owe some favors that he needed to pay up on, to a single person in particular. He’s sure that the god would promise some reward (it’s what he regularly did) in exchange for aid, and Daud’s debt would also be cleared by setting the meeting up in the first place.

So, instead of yelling, Daud stood, tucked his knives and gun back into his jacket, and headed for the door throwing out, “I may know someone,” before the door shut behind him.

\--

Corvo paid the ship captain by tossing her a heavy pouch before swiftly walking down the gang plank and onto Serkonos’s major harbor. It was early morning, the air was crisp and the harbor was slowly filling up with sailors, whalers, and vendors. He expertly weaved his way through the growing crowds and towards the closest hotel, which if he remembered accurately, was only three blocks away from his current location.

The place had changed since he was here last, though. Last time, under the rule of Duke Abele, it seemed as if the color and energy had been sucked out of the city to fuel the Duke’s own feasts and parties. Now, it was an actual living place again with open shops on every street, clean cobblestone and brick walls, and populate with people working, shopping, and talking.

The inquisition’s presence wasn’t strongly felt here yet: there were no overseer outposts besides the main one towards the east, no wolfhounds rooming the streets, and the pre-built pyres at every town square were nowhere to be found.

Corvo spotted the hotel as soon as he passed through the street market, exactly where he remembered it to be. He sighed in relief, the boat ride here was tiring and the times that he did sleep it was filled with strange images. It was strange, but unlike last time when Delilah took away his powers, he can actively feel The Outsider’s absence—the world feels emptier.

“One room, highest floor, one window,” Corvo listed to the clerk while handing over coins.

“Yes, sir,” the clerk was a young boy (probably working for his parents, Corvo summarized) and his voice cracked as he fumbled for the right set of keys along the wall. He passed the copper key with shaky hands to Corvo who accepted it and tossed a few extra coins on the counter before crossing the downstairs bar to reach the stairs.

His room was on the third floor, and the smell of the ocean was faint as a light breeze drifted through the open window. Paranoia forced Corvo to shut it knowing how easily it is to get through one, but he did miss the fresh air afterward.

Once he double checked the room for any other openings and weaknesses, he dropped down on the bed and spread out the files and the couple books he had brought along in a leather case. The report on the top was the one that had convinced him that Serkonos would be the best place to start his search of The Outsider. One of his spies had reported weird happenings on one of the islands near Cullero written as a list of incidents:

1\. Objects appearing and disappearing seemingly out of thin air  
2\. People waking up in places they didn’t fall asleep in  
3\. Hearing distant voices  
4\. Leviathans coming closer and closer to shore  
5\. Pockets of freezing cold

It was the last two points especially that caught Corvo’s attention even before he knew that The Outsider was missing. It’s pretty obvious that all those things add up to The Void; how or why, Corvo doesn’t know, but it seemed a good bet to start there. Corvo just hopes that whatever is happening can be fixed and that The Outsider will be found by the end of it.

[End of Part II]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading Part II! Part III will be posted within the week and will contain some new characters, and lots and lots of action.  
> I'm sure you noticed that Kirin Jindosh may be giving off some Tony Stark vibes, and you would be right!  
> And I know you all were also wondering, "What was the author listening to while writing this?" and the answer to that question is "EXO's entire discography because I'm an intellectual."  
> Until next time!


	3. Part III: White Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything that is happening now is current, so no more confusing jumping back and forward in time. Enjoy!

_A serious house on serious earth it is,_  
 _In whose blent air all out compulsions meet,_  
 _Are recognized, and robed as destinies,_  
 _And that much never can be obsolete,_  
 _Since someone will forever be surprising_  
 _A hunger in himself to be more serious,_  
 _And gravitating with it to this ground,_  
 _Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,_  
 _If only that so many dead lie round._  
-Philip Larkin, “Church Going”

Part III: White Noise

Corvo opened his eyes to sight, smell, and sound of the sea. It stretched endlessly unbroken by any man-made objects or land formations, and reflected an almost ethereal shade of blue. The smell of salt wasn’t mixed with blood and the sound of the waves crashing against the docks wasn’t hampered by the screeching of whaling tools.

He looked behind and realized he was standing on the edge of a wooden dock jutting out and leading back into a town. It wasn’t a city, none of the structures were higher than a single story and the color palate was interwoven frequently with green and brown as much as grey. Further back there were green fields leading up into hills, which finally rose into a distant mountain range that encompassed the town before dropping off into the ocean.

There was voice telling Corvo that this is not where he fell asleep and he should be worried, but it sounded far off its volume blocked by the calm haze that directed him to walk towards the town instead.

It was early, the first heat of the sun was only just being felt and the people were slowly filtering out of their homes to go and work. Corvo walked through the ever-increasing crowd and marked their strange dress—the clothes he had seen people wearing in paintings.

“Fresh fish! Fresh fish for sale! Just caught today—2 coins!” A female vendor shouted to Corvo’s right.

For some reason, the haze that surrounded everything else muting colors and sounds wasn’t around her. She stood out in brilliant detail: long dark hair, green eyes, round features, and just the beginning of wrinkles around her eyes and lips. There were a couple people around her stall, but most moved passed to view the contents of the other vendors nearby.

Corvo was walking towards her before he even registered his feet moving. A boy, no higher than his waist, cuts off his movement and Corvo is forced to stumble back as the kid rushes passed him and towards the woman’s stall.

Her face lights up once she sees the boy, and Corvo knows immediately that she’s his mother—Jessamine had the same look whenever she caught sight of Emily.  
“Look, look what I found mom!”

Corvo is close enough now to notice that their lips do not match the sounds leaving them. It is as if their voices are in his head rather than being spoken from the people themselves.

“What did you find?” She smiled through the tiredness on her face.

The boy proudly holds up a collection of fish. “I caught eight fish! That’s twice as much as yesterday!”

The boy turns around and Corvo feels all the breath in his lungs leave as if he had been punched in the gut; even though he is significantly younger, the features are similar enough—it’s The Outsider.

Corvo wakes up.

\--

The district Emily and Jindosh entered once they had left the beach was one that neither of them had spent much time, and in Jindosh’s case, never even heard of. It was a sliver of an island in between Whitecliff and the main island of Dunwall without much to its name besides having a beach unused by whalers. The residential section began right as the sand ended with small single-story cabins leading into a series of taller apartments and eventually a town in the center. Despite being small and limited, the place was dense with buildings, which made it impossible to see the sky once one entered the main town.

Emily hoping at least that a small town meant fewer obstacles was quickly disillusioned. “This place is like a fortress.”

“It seems that the inquisition has invaded,” Jindosh responded while taking in the surroundings. On every block they snuck through was lined with Abbey propaganda. There were signs of the inquisition everywhere: wolfhound cages in front of stores, platforms for religious speeches, and the most disturbing: pre-built pyres at every street intersection.  
Emily forced herself to count each one, Jindosh avoided looking at them.

The one benefit was that the place at least functioned as a small town where there wasn’t a single person awake at this time of night—even the overseers weren’t patrolling probably too used to the patterns of the town. The only people they passed was the occasional drunk stumbling home, and the bars were the only lit buildings.

“What are the chances that the bars aren’t filled with overseers?” Jindosh rhetorically asked.

He was right, there was no way they were going to legally acquire a room tonight. They would have to wait until the morning and somehow avoid the Abbey in order to rent a room at an actual hotel. Emily knowing this, began evaluating the buildings around her checking for open windows, any guards, and accessibility.

Jindosh had walked quite a bit ahead before noticing that Emily was no longer following. He turned around to find her stopped and looking upwards. He walked back towards her, gritting his teeth against the constant sloshing inside his boots.

Emily attention focused on a structure a block down from them—it was one of the few that did not have some shop, bar, or restaurant attached, but simply a residential building. All of the lights were off, but there was open window, which Emily hoped that meant someone wasn’t home; the weather would not allow for a comfortable breeze.

Without saying a word, she headed towards her target and pulled herself up on top of an empty wolfhound crate. It was high enough that she could now reach the lowest overhang and very carefully swung herself up taking a second to balance on the fabric before moving across and leaping up onto a balcony on the target building.

Usually these excursions were relatively easy, her father had run her through much harder climbs than this, but the various aches and pains from torture, exhaustion, and the cold were catching up to her quickly. She had to pause on the balcony, breathing heavily while trying to physically beat the heat back into her legs. She only took a second, before reexamined her location: the open window was above her to the left—she could reach it if she stood on the railing.

She grasped the window ledge and with only the strength of arms, yanked her body up and through. She could hear Corvo yelling in her head about thoroughly checking if the place is actually empty, but she didn’t have the strength to hang there for any amount of time, so she immediately rolled behind the first thing in the room, which was a couch.  
She waited and listened, but there were no sounds in the house besides her breathing and the wind outside. Still, she kept low while searching the place creeping through the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and single bedroom.

They place was empty.

She walked back to the window and leaned out. Jindosh was standing at the front entrance with folded arms and head tucked towards his chest to keep in the cold—he already figured out her plan. So, she didn’t bother motioning to him before unlocking the latch on the door and heading down the three flights of stairs.

She hesitated on the second flight.

Jindosh had ultimately, helped her escape The Abbey, but his motives were unknown. He had given her a key, but he also watched her be tortured for weeks before doing that. The only reason he was with her now was because Emily had pulled him into the water with her—it wasn’t his choice to run from The Abbey. If he hadn’t been on that rooftop, he wouldn’t even be an enemy of the inquisition; it would’ve been Emily on her own.

If she left him down there, he probably wouldn’t have the strength or know-how to get up into the place like she did. So, if she didn’t unlock that front door then she would be free of him—she could just regroup here for an hour, leave and let him fend for himself.

But even as thoughts of betrayal filtered through Emily’s head, her body was already moving down the stairs. Even if he was untrustworthy, manipulative, and dangerous, Emily never wanted to be the person that left people behind that did not, at least give them a chance to redeem themselves.

She unlocked the front door.

Jindosh quickly entered, “Did you get lost, Empress?”

The question was delivered lightly, but his gaze was not. In his haste to get in, he crowded her and it was the first time that Emily became aware of his height. He looked down and she immediately knew that he knew exactly what took her so long to reach the door.

She did not bother with a lie, but stared right back. For a split second, she thought he might call her out, but a after a few beats he nodded, almost to himself, and took a step back motioning for Emily to lead the way.

\--

Billie Lurk was pissed.

She had gone to Tyvia to relax. After getting involved with Corvo and sailing him around the empire chasing down Delilah and her followers, and also revealing her less than stellar past, she wanted a long break. She had lazily taken the [Dreadful Wale] around the Isles, accepting easy jobs here and there, but mainly she lived off the sea and kept seclusion on the ship.

It was nice, not having to deal with people. Even though she only had four people max on her ship when Corvo was with her, it was still too much; she couldn’t help constantly looking over her shoulder, constantly clutching her sword. It was as much of a relief as having Corvo accept her true identity than him finally leaving her alone.

It was only a few weeks ago, when Billie decided that she wanted to spend some time on land, and picked Tyvia at random as the place to do that. She had arrived a few days previous, took great pains to hide her ship behind an outcropping of rocks to avoid any recognition, and had aimlessly wandered the small town since.

It was nice, simple.

Until fucking Daud found her.

She doesn’t even know how he did. She had not used any alias he would know and she had not taken any jobs since reaching shore. She had stolen a few essentials from the richer residents, but they never noticed she was there let alone her face. She had also taken great pains to hide her distinctive arm and missing eye with a low-laying page boy cap and a thick wool coat.

And somehow, despite all this, Daud is pulling up a seat to her café table in broad daylight.

“What the hell, Daud?” Billie hissed.

“Hey, Billie.”

“Hey?!” She repeated incredulously.

“I owe you favor,” He replied after a pause.

“Are you fucking with me?” It’s an honest question.

If anyone owes someone, it is her—she tried to kill him and probably would have succeeded if she went through with her plan. She’s not really angry with him, she was never really angry at him; she saw opportunity to rise and she took it. That’s how you survive in this life. But seeing him here and now, she can only strike out like a feral animal caught unawares. In all honesty, she is not mentally prepared to face the man she had been inspired by, followed, tried to assassinate, and then was forgiven by.

“No,” Daud’s voice cuts in through her scrambling thoughts. He looks up at her for the first time in the conversation and his emotions are just as unreadable as before, “I have a…contact that needs travel passage.”

“Then have this contact board one of the thousands of boats on the harbor,” She replies with hostility.

“The contact doesn’t have papers.”

“Then bribe a captain, any captain, they’re a dime a dozen around here,” She’s still lashing out, but it’s becoming more desperate and she knows Daud can hear it.

Daud was never one for being cryptic; he was surprisingly straight forward for an assassin. So he tells her the truth, “The contact is The Outsider.”

Billie is rendered speechless. Unconsciously, she immediately glances down at Daud’s covered hand and can mentally recreate the symbol carved onto the top of his hand. Being part of Whalers, she has known for most of her life that The Outsider, The Void, and magic was really and not just some propaganda spread by The Abbey. That also means that she has known how dangerous and real it and he was, and now, she very clearly sees the inquisition for what it is: a war against a god.

But, in all her years with Daud and the Whalers, and the subsequent months with Corvo Attano, neither had ever come out right and spoke about their direct connection to the god. “I—that’s not possible.”

“You know it is, and you also know how,” Daud scrunched his face like he just ate something sour, “how influential he is.”

There are so many questions Billie wants to ask, but there is one that keeps circling to the forefront of her mind, “Why are you coming to me?”

“I already said—I owe you,” Daud responded.

It’s a non-answer and they both know it. Billie glances down in thought and stares into the now lukewarm coffee she had completely forgotten about. It was one thing to help the Lord Protector: Emily was a decent Empress and she may have felt some guilt for Delilah’s appearance, but it is a completely different thing to aid The Outsider.

Even from here, the preaching of the overseers can be heard at all times of the day. There is a pyre right around the corner and a wolfhound has passed by this one café at least four times since she had sat down. She helped Corvo because he was a good guy that wanted to save his daughter, and yeah, he was technically a heretic but he wasn’t a crazed witch and he never preached gospel on behalf of The Void.

“It’s important,” Daud’s voice cuts threw Billie’s conflicted thoughts with the same expression that he wore whenever he decided on their next target. “He—the contact needs to get to Dunwall.”

\--

The first thing that Jindosh and Emily do once they settle into the temporary space is change their clothes. They do not even bother changing in separate rooms, but without words simply turn their backs to each other. Emily, though doubting Jindosh earlier has accepted that she will try to trust him and as she never does anything half-way gives her back to him a few minutes after.

She tightens the belt on the pants that were obviously owned by a much larger man, turns around to grab the shirt off the bed, and pauses.

She did not mean to, her eyes naturally drawn to movement, which is why she watches as Jindosh peels off his wet shirt and jacket throwing them on the ground with a smack. She notes that his back is not that broad, but surprisingly defined before tugging the new shirt over his head.

Emily is dressed a moment later and exploring the apartment. She does not know how long they will be able to stay here, so she wants to get as much out of it as possible before moving on; to where she has not decided.

There are few trinkets that she picks up and throws into a stolen back pack. On the desk in the living room there is a decent watch, which she takes as well.

“Find anything interesting?” Jindosh asked from somewhere behind her.

Emily is busy rifling through drawers, but throws the bag to him. “Just some things to sell; could probably get around 100 coins for all of it.”

Jindosh dumps the bag out on the table and picks his way through it, habitually rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to get them out of the way. Emily is right; most of what she picked up were shiny things that would sell at any black market, but a couple items Jindosh pushes to the side.

Emily wanders over a few minutes later with empty hands. Jindosh points at the two things he sectioned off: a copper spoon and the watch. “Don’t sell those.”

Instead of questioning him, Emil nods and sweeps the stolen goods back into the bag, “Do you want first or second shift?”

Jindosh raised an eyebrow, “I think we are adult enough to share a bed, Empress.”

Emily snorted, “No, someone needs to be awake in case the owner of this place comes back. I’m not worried about you defiling me in my sleep.”

“Maybe I’m the one that’s worried,” Jindosh jokes leaning arrogantly against the table. Emily is too exhausted to laugh, but she does smile.

“I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

“Then you can take the first shift,” Jindosh switches back to their original topic.

“Are you pretending to be gentleman again, Jindosh?” Emily jokes this time.

Jindosh pretended to scandalized. “I would never; those men parading around boasting about their proper manners while courting mistresses are absolutely insufferable. They are also stingy with their funding.”

“Oh, don’t try and pull ‘it’s so hard dealing with sycophants’ card on me. I can guarantee I can beat you at that game.”

Emily laid out an obvious challenge, and Jindosh only hesitated for a second before picking it up and laying down his first card on the table. “A woman once offered me her daughter in exchange for a clockwork soldier,” he said with an expression that said ‘ha, I’m more famous and popular than you.’

“A man sobbed at my feet after meeting me for the first time,” Emily countered.

The inventor smirked and drawled, “Same.”

Emily regarded him with a raised chin. She tried to think of the most ridiculous, over-the-top thing someone had done to get her attention but was momentarily distracted by Jindosh’s outfit. It was the first time she had taken the time to look over him, since she had embarrassingly peaked at his naked back.

She had hold back laughter. “Wha—what are you wearing?”

He looked down at himself in confusion, pulling on the shirt draped over his frame. “What’s wrong with it?”

Uh, everything, Emily thought. The shirt was a hideous pattern of stripes and butterflies all set to the color theme of purple and yellow. The material was a cheap silk, giving it a shiny quality and was three times larger than the man wearing it. He was swimming in it, and clearly noticed because he had attempted to tuck it into a pair of pants, but the amount of fabric only allowed him to stuff the front, while the back hung out. The pants were even worse, being surprisingly well-fitted (maybe belonging to another family member) but had the same poor taste for patterns as the shirt in a black, red, and white plaid.

Jindosh looked up and stared incredulously at the woman. “Are you judging my stolen clothes?”

Emily would have replied if not for the sound of a key being jiggled into a lock interrupting her.

\--

Corvo woke up cold.

Images of a boy with green eyes and wearing the face of The Outsider were replaying through his mind. Everything about that place had felt so real; the ocean air, the stones beneath his feet, the sounds of life. It seemed more like a vision rather than a dream, but that was impossible.

Corvo ran a shaky hand over his face and pushed himself out of bed, needing to walk off the sensations crawling along his skin.

That was when he realized that the sensations were not in his head, but real as he stood not in his hotel room, but on a jetty. He stared incredulously as ocean waves reared up and crashed against the stones he was standing on. The first rays of the sun were peaking up over the horizon and reflecting orange and red over the rolling sea, and there was no way that Corvo was imagining this.

He took a tentative step forward and the rocks did not disappear under his feet.

The water droplets that splashed against him were cold in the morning air.

Number 2 on list filtered through his mind: “People waking up in places they didn’t fall asleep in.”

He had never had the habit of sleep walking. In fact, he almost always woke up in the same position he fell asleep; it was ingrained in his body from how many times he had to sleep in cramped conditions. He never moved that much in his sleep and never walked anywhere, even when his sleep was plagued by trips into the void.

He lifted his marked hand to face, tracing the familiar pattern.

It was not glowing, the emptiness of the void was not flooding his veins, so he had not somehow called on his powers in his sleep. And neither had the missing god pulled him anywhere; trips to the void always left his mark tingling.

He glanced around the oceanic landscape and wondered how he possibly ended up here. He turned around and saw the city he was staying at in the distance.

How did he walk miles away from his room without knowing it; and what did it have to do with the strange dream he had?

[End of Part III]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for long wait for this chapter! I have been hella busy, and I had to work on the entirety of this work at once in order to keep the continuity straight! Good news, I have it planned out so writing it should now be easier and I will be posting regularly. 
> 
> Again, sorry for the wait. And I have read and appreciated all of your comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's the end of part I. In part II, we will get my favorite character, Kirin, so look forward to that! And it will much longer, because most of the set-up/exposition has been covered in this part.
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it (or if you didn't)!
> 
> (And, especially if you notice any grammatical errors--I'm editing this myself so I'll probably miss things)


End file.
